In the several years since she entered the public forum, first as photographer and filmmaker Richard Kern’s casting director, then as Rookie’s go-to photographer, and now as an artist in her own right, Petra Collins has grappled with the concepts of feminism and nudity in her work. Her illustration of a woman’s genitalia streaked with period blood on a tee sold at American Apparel made her national news fodder; her pubic hair pics got her banned from Instagram. While those examples might paint the picture of an over-the-top dramatist, Collins, who is 22, is anything but. The majority of her fluorescent-lit photos capture one of the many paradoxes of being a young woman today—partly empowered by one’s sexuality, partly punished by it.

Her latest venture is Babe, a book she edited that culls work from the women—and one man—with whom she has worked in her online gallery, The Ardorous. Filled with selfies, poems, essays, illustrations, and nude imagery, the tome is smarter than the sparkly stickers that dot its pages might suggest: It explores the expansiveness of female realities, from the lurid (Maisie Cousins’ gritty photographs) to the tender (Mayan Toledano’s snapshots) to the disturbing (Collins’ own repurposing of abuse stories into pastel, handwritten notes). This week Style.com is taking an extended look at the role of nudity in fashion—after all, it seems there’s never been more of it. To start, I sat down with Collins to discuss photography, feminism, and why she’s anti-airbrushing.

How did you find your voice talking about issues of feminism and womanhood?

I grew up having a lot of trouble in school. I was put in special ed because I couldn’t properly read and write, and the things that I was seeing on TV and in magazines were like, “Oh, you just have to be pretty. You don’t really have to be smart.” I really felt like that was my worth, because I was like, “Well, I’m not smart, I can’t do any of this, so it’s all about my image.” It really wore me down. I was just like, “I want a way to feel strong, and I also just don’t want to be an object.” It really kicked off when I started university and started learning about feminism and finding the language [to discuss these issues]. That made me realize this is the language for the images that I’m trying to make.

Why do you choose to use stereotypically girly things like pastel colors and cutesy doodles in your work?

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I think a way that feminist photographers work is turning what was the object into the subject and really making it our own. [There are things] like pink or like princesses or stuff like that, that you’re forced to kind of live with…It’s about choosing to use those things and not being forced to like them.

As someone who has posed nude and photographs nude women and men, what do you think nudity means today?

I don’t even know what it means, but I think it can become really dangerous when—was it on Style.com? There was the article about how the new garment is the body, or something. Oh, it was in The New York Times.

Right, about how women are reclaiming the red carpet, so that it’s not about the designer anymore.

But it’s about their body, which is also not good—which I also think is a slippery slope. Because it’s all about body perfection, body modification, and all this stuff. It’s funny, because nudity for me is so whatever. I’m just so desensitized to it, but I definitely don’t think nudity is still being used correctly anywhere. It’s usually sexualizing a body. I modeled for Ryan McGinley a couple years ago, and that was the opposite experience of being an object. Well, I guess we were objects of nature. It was so un-sexual, that nudity for me is just so not sexual at all.

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You were somewhat famously kicked off Instagram for posting nudes—how has your relationship with Instagram evolved?

I’m just curious to see how people react and what people write. I did this campaign for Lonely Hearts where I did a self-portrait and I have all these stretch marks. That’s something that I’ve always obviously hated or been embarrassed about, but I was like, “I’m just going to put this photo up.” I just posted that photo a couple weeks ago, and I’ve gotten so many nice comments from other girls and women. A thing that I’m always worried about doing is putting an image of myself on my Instagram or somewhere else that looks perfect, because that’s not who I am, and that’s not what I want to preach. Because, I mean, I am very privileged…I’m thin and white and blond, but I’m not an airbrushed, perfect thing. I have stretch marks all over, I have cellulite, I have acne. To me, it feels like you can’t really be what you can’t see, and so if you don’t see those things, then you don’t feel like you’re valid.

Another large theme in your work is collaboration with other artists, especially young female artists. Why is that something you’re drawn to?

I think being collaborative is definitely more natural for people who are minorities in any sense—so people who aren’t, like, white male artists—because we don’t have the privilege to create art and work alone, usually. So that’s a reason that I would bring girls together: because you’re more powerful in groups, and you help each other. Anytime I’m doing anything, I always try to help people that I really admire, and I always try to get jobs for people I admire, because that’s what we’re trying to do is bring them to the forefront and give them power to do things.

A photograph by Mayan Toledano that appears in Babe.

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Why do you choose to do commercial work, often in fashion?

There’s a lot of stigma around being an artist but also doing commercial stuff. It’s this old-school thinking of selling out. For me, I have to work to pay my rent and to eat. Also, I think it’s really important to work for brands and to do things that are mainstream, because that is the audience that you are trying to capture, and any little thing that I can do in any campaign that’s different from what is normally seen is an accomplishment for me—any little thing I can sneak in. For me, I think it’s also important to do that sort of [commercial] work, because, yes, I can have an art show, but only, what, 80 really rich people can go to it? But if I do something with a brand, so many more people will see it. I mean, fashion is kind of exclusive, but not as [much as it used to be]. It’s accessible; you can get magazines anywhere.

Celebrities like Beyoncé or Taylor Swift have also had a big impact on bringing feminism or female-positive messages to the masses, but I think that sometimes their messages get muddled because the intentions aren’t totally clear. As something of a feminist leader yourself, are there other feminist public figures you admire?

You just mentioned Beyoncé. I listened to “Flawless” by Beyoncé a million times. It’s just so crazy that that voiceover [Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie] was in a pop song. I just really appreciate that she did that, and is doing that, and is setting an example for the audience that needs to be given. And Amy Schumer is amazing. I think she’s so smart. Again, with her show, it reaches a broader audience, who maybe are like, “Oh, I kind of understand that.” Jill Soloway, I love her. Transparent is really amazing. Laverne Cox! They’re all these really strong women that are in the mainstream.

What would you like to do next?

A feature film has always been something I wanted to do. It might not be for a while, but I’m going to try to make a couple of short films. I’m also doing a really exciting project. I don’t know if I can talk about it. Maybe I shouldn’t, but it’s a really exciting public art project that will be out in late July. And that’s all I’m going to say.